The Phantom Lover
by Mersang
Summary: A mysterious girl appears at the Paris Opera house, and proceeds to turn the place upside down! Is she Erik's soul mate? Or is their romance doomed to fail? DISCONTINUED! See my profile for an explanation.
1. I Am A Woman In Love

**The Phantom Lover**

**by**

**INSANITY**

(Author's note: YAYYYY!!!!!! I'm finally getting a fanfic (or should I say _Phan_fic!) published!! I have been trying for a long time now, but it's hard because I don't have much time, and I don't have Internet access. That's why this story has an author's note, and an editor's note; because my friend, who is also a fanfic writer is posting this for me. Anyways, I have a couple of things to say to you readers before I get to my disclaimer, so listen up. (Figuratively speaking, of course, since you are reading not listening.) First, about the pseudonym. That is not my only pseudonym, and I will mention at the end of the story what my other ones are so if you like my work, you can read more of it. Second, about the story. It is based on an extremely crazy idea, so please bear with me; everyone lives happily ever after in the end. Okay, that's done, on to the disclaimer. Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Elizabeth, Arminta, Lizzie Firmin, Herr Meyerling, Dr. Fauster and Passarino. I don't own any of the music or places P.S. Sorry for the long A/N, but I'm only writing one at the beginning and the end of the story. Read and Review!!!!(please!) )

(Editor's note: Hi, Mersang here. My friend wrote this, but since she doesn't have an account I'm posting it on her behalf. She's got some good ideas for Animorphs, too.)

**1 "I Am A Woman In Love, And I'll Do Anything To Get Into Your World..."**

_December 25, 1881._

It was a beautiful Christmas day. All morning snow had fallen on Paris, but around noon the sun came out and the whole city glistened. The sloping roofs and elaborate stonework of the Opera House were especially lovely. Christine had found Christmas alone too depressing to stand so she arrived at the Opera House early and wandered the halls enjoying the festive atmosphere. With a faint twinge of guilt she thought of Erik, alone in his cold, damp cellar on Christmas Day, as she climbed the stairs to the dusty, mysterious attics.

She had almost reached the vast, cavernous space above the performance hall, right below the roof, when she heard a voice. It was Ubaldo Piangi, the lead tenor. He seemed a bit upset and Christine crept forward to see what might be wrong. She soon wished she had not. Far from spending a lonely Christmas in a dank cellar, the Phantom was celebrating in his own unique way: murder. Piangi was backed up against the wall and was being menaced by Erik, Punjab Lasso in one hand, mask in the other.

"Admit it!" Erik hissed. "you impress the chorus girls by telling lies about me."

"Of course not!" Piangi mumbled drunkenly. "I'm an honest man!"

"I see." Erik's voice dripped sarcasm. "I hate to contradict a _gentleman, _but I do not see an honest man in front of me, I see a drunken fool; one who is about to become a dead fool." He began to advance, step by terrifying step on the man opposite him, who was finally beginning to be worried by his predicament. But, before real fear could penetrate the tenor's alcohol-drenched brain, something unexpected happened. From the shadows on the far side of the room from where Christine was stepped a young woman.

She was dressed in a dress that had been white and quite pretty once, was now muddy and soaking wet. She had long, dark red-gold hair that trailed down her back in wet tendrils; and pale, clear skin. She had a straight, rather narrow nose, and full lips surrounding a mouth that, although not small, was not too large for her face. The dim light coming from behind her kept her eyes in shadow. Her sudden appearance caught the Ghost's eye and he paused, and turned his head to look at her. She stepped between the two men.

"Get out of the way!" Erik growled. The raised her head to look him in the face and her manner became pleading.

"Please, Phantom, don't kill him." She asked. Her voice was high-pitched, but unlike Carlotta's, not shrill.

"And why ever not?" The Phantom enquired menacingly, taking a step toward the strange girl and drawing himself up to his full height the better to loom over her. She answered his enquiry in a startling manner. Crossing the distance between them in two quick steps, she flung her arms around his neck.

"Please let him go! he is frightened enough already." She begged. With a surge of rage at her impudence Erik raised his hands to hurl her away from, but as he did he looked down into her eyes. He suddenly felt his rage, bitterness, and hatred drain away and instead of gripping her with talon-like, he laid them gently on her back. The girl was nothing special. She was so tiny that Erik would have had to stoop to rest his chin on her head, but her body pressed against him as no woman's ever had. Although she had to stand on tiptoe to do it, her arms willingly encircled his neck and held him close to her. And her eyes...

Two golden-green pools framed by the longest lashes he had ever seen. Erik had a vague idea he was drowning in them, but he immediately dismissed that notion. How could eyes that shone with such pleading, trust, and something else he could not, dared not, identify, do anything so violent as drown someone? The pleading in her eyes was not in any way pathetic, but Erik would have unhesitatingly sworn that one would have had to be more than human to resist it. She must have read in his eyes that he would let Piangi go, for she smiled at the Phantom; a warm, radiant smile and said:

"Thank you, Phantom." Erik smiled back. Christine, who had watched this whole drama played out, shuddered. Erik's smile was not a pretty sight. His twisted lips curled upward displaying his vampire-like fangs, which seemed more than sharp enough to pierce the skin of the throat of the woman in front of him.

Meanwhile Piangi, seeing that the Ghost was distracted, stole softly across the room to the door, where he found Christine. He touched her arm and gestured to the door. she backed out and Piangi followed. If Erik noticed them leave he did not react. Christine retained her self-control until she met Raoul, who had come looking for her, but then she burst into tears and flung herself into his arms. Raoul soothed her as she sobbed out the story. He was worried, knowing better than Christine the horrors the Phantom was capable of, but he didn't see what he could do for the girl. _With any good fortune, _he thought, _she will leave before much harm can come to her. _But Raoul was wrong on more than one count in his analysis of the situation...

Back in the attic silence descended softly. It was broken only when the woman sighed contentedly and nestled deeper into Erik's arms, resting her head against his breast.. Erik bent his head and laid his cheek on her head, enjoying the feel of her damp but soft hair on his twisted, rotten flesh. In his mind a thousand questions whirled around and around. The foremost was; _Is this a dream? _But he wanted so desperately it to be real that he did not dare ask that.

"Who are you?" He asked instead.

"My name is Elizabeth." She said aloud. She added in her read: _I am a woman who loves you more than mere words can describe. _"I ran away to come to you." She continued aloud. "I am lucky no one can miss the Opera House, because I have never been to Paris before."

"Why are you here? Paris is a wonderful city, but why run away to come here?" Erik asked, not caring as much about information as about hearing her voice answer.

"I came here to find you. I have heard so much about you that I knew I had to try to find you. I could not tell my parents because they would have thought me mad, so when an opportunity came along I took it and here I am. _A pity _she thought to herself _that I cannot tell him the whole truth, but he would think me mad; and I could not bear that! _She shivered, and the Ghost realized she was soaking wet and probably chilled to the bone. His questions could wait, he decided, until she was warm and dry and had a hot meal inside her. He was working out the logistics of the plan to take care of her before he realized he had decided to adopt it. _Good Lord, _he thought,_ why am I saddling myself with another female? After the fiasco with Christine this summer I must be going senile to feel flattered enough by her desire for my company to take her "home" and take care of her. Oh well, at least since I'm the notorious Phantom of the Opera, I don't have to worry about propriety. _And with that thought he picked up his mask and Punjab Lasso off the floor where he had dropped them and took Elizabeth's hand to lead her to his lair. Once there he sent her into the bedroom to remove her sodden apparel while he went to find dry clothes and a meal for the pair of them.

He soon returned, having only gone as far as the kitchens and the costume store rooms. He passed the costume he had brought her though the crack she opened the door, changed his own clothes, which were wet from the contact with hers, and set himself to laying the meal out on the table. Soon Elizabeth joined him, looking quite pretty in a red dress with a sunshine yellow shawl over her shoulders. The dress was much more like current fashion than her other outfit; having the long, full skirts, narrow waist, and low neckline of the period. Now Erik could see the curves of her body that he had so recently felt. With slightly exaggerated elegance he held her chair for her and served her the warm bread with butter melting on it, the hot hearty soup, and the red wine he had stolen from the kitchens. Elizabeth was ravenous, and the Phantom found himself curiously hungry also, so there was little conversation for the first part of the meal.

Although the silence was companionable, it began to get to Erik after awhile. Since he couldn't think of anything to say he watched Elizabeth for a few minutes, in hopes of inspiration.

"What are you thinking?" She asked him, looking up to find his eyes on her.

"I was thinking of you. I was wondering what topic of conversation would interest you." Erik responded gravely. Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with such merriment at his gallantry that despite himself he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. She smiled back at him and said:

"We could discuss topics of conversation. That way we could find something that pleases both of us. Oh, before I forget; who was that man up in the attic?"

"That was Ubaldo Piangi, the company's lead tenor." Erik said with a sneer.

"I hope he's not performing tonight. He was too drunk to even speak properly, never mind sing." Elizabeth said concernedly. Erik chuckled.

"Do you think anyone will notice the difference? He is never able to sing or act. Do not worry about him."

"Oh, I'm not worried about him. He deserves to be fired for lying about you and then daring to deny it to your face!" Exclaimed Elizabeth.

"If you had let me kill him he would not need to be fired." Erik pointed out.

"I said he deserves to be fired; he doesn't deserve to be killed. Killing is so final. No one should kill for something as trivial as slander if the slanderer is a lying idiot." She declared.

"He certainly is an lying idiot. A toast with the last of the wine?" The phantom said, changing the subject. Elizabeth agreed and allowed him to fill her glass. "To opera. May it never die!" Erik said.

"To the master of all music, the Opera Ghost. May foolish managers and drunken tenors never overcome him!" Elizabeth answered and they both drained their glasses.

Dinner over, Erik and Elizabeth cleared the table, packing the borrowed items into the basket Erik had brought them in, and retired to the 'living room'. Erik lit a candle and threw himself down onto his throne. Elizabeth promptly rose from her seat and perched on the arm of the throne. Erik glanced sharply at her but said nothing.

The silence lasted for some time. Then, with a rustle of skirts, Elizabeth slid down and arranged herself on the floor at the Phantom's feet, leaning back against his knees. Erik, deep in thought, scarcely noticed. He certainly was not aware that soon after she settled he began stroking her hair and twining it around his fingers. Time passed. Only when the candle spluttered and died did Erik rouse himself from his reverie. Elizabeth was asleep. Carefully Erik stood up, and carried her into the spare room. He laid her on the bed, covering her with warm wool blankets against the damp chill that pervaded the cellar. Then he stole away and began to play soft melodies on his organ.


	2. A Rabbit Named Arminta

**2. A White, Fluffy Rabbit Named Arminta.**

_December 26, 1881._

"Good day, Andre! I hope my absence last night was not a problem." M. Firmin Richard said on entering the managers' office. Instead of greeting his fellow manager in like fashion, M. Andre Moncharmin leapt from his chair and spun around, ashen-faced.

"Oh, please, Monsieur, I swear it wasn't my fault...I tried..." He said in a voice that was shrill with fear. Then his eyes focused on Firmin. "Oh, it's you. _Thank God!_"

"What's wrong?" Demanded Firmin.

"Last night...Oh my God it was _awful_! You know the German diplomat who is visiting Paris? Well, he and his family watched last night's performance, of _Faust_, in _Box Five!_"

"Good Lord, Andre! What happened?"

"Nothing! Absolutely, God-damned nothing! I stayed here all night waiting for the usual disaster beyond imagination to befall us and _nothing happened! _My nerves are in shreds, and still nothing happens. This must be his punishment: nothing. He's letting us torture ourselves, imagining what he's cooking up for us..."

"Hush, Andre." Firmin interrupted his colleague's tirade gently. "You're tired. Go home and get a good night's...er, day's sleep and let me take over. Maybe the Phantom wasn't there last night and he doesn't know about it."

Despite his brave words, Firmin was just as frightened as Andre. When Carlotta burst in, looking horrified, he sprang to his feet biting back a cry of fear. Before he could say a word she gasped out:

"Padre Mio! Senor Firmin I have just seen, on the roof, a frightful sight! A young woman, playing with a white rabbit, in the dress of the comptessa from _Il Muto _!"

"The rabbit was wearing the dress?" Asked the bemused Firmin.

"No, the woman was. But…Oh it was awful!" Carlotta was so upset that her Italian accent had become quite pronounced. Despite her usual obnoxious behavior, Firmin was sorry for her.

"What's so awful about a woman playing with a rabbit?" He asked kindly.

"Not that! After that I heard….A voice. A beautiful voice….A tenor, but a tenor like an angel. And the unseen man said : 'Come up, Elizabeth; the view is magnificent!" And the woman, she replied: 'Erik, how can I with Arminta?" And then the Phantom jumps down from the statue and helps her to climb up to a perch at the top."

"Good God!" Was Firmin's response to this story. "Who was she?"

"I do not know and I do not care. Perhaps now this foolish affaire with Christine will be over."

"La Carlotta! If you please!" Firmin spoke more sharply than he intended. "Say nothing of the least disrespect about the Opera Ghost or his affairs!" He lowered his voice. We are being especially careful right now."

"Why?" Carlotta asked in spite of her feigned disinterest in the affaire. Firmin beckoned her over and whispered in her ear:

"Her Meyerling, the German diplomat, sat with his family in box five last night. We think the Ghost may not know, but we are taking no chances. Who knows who may be blamed." He ended slightly ominously. Carlotta, for once in her life, said nothing. She just nodded and left the room. Somehow, Firmin knew she would say nothing of the incident to anyone.

By now my readers will probably be wondering where the heck the rabbit came from. Well, I will tell you. Elizabeth had, in fact, gone to bed at about two o'clock in the afternoon on the preceding day, and so had woken up around midnight. Half an hour earlier Erik had taken a break in his music and had brought down a basket containing food for Elizabeth, so when she awoke she found breakfast waiting for her. Once she had dressed and eaten, she went into Erik's room to listen to his music. About an hour after she came in he stopped.

"How do you like it?" He asked.

"It's wonderful. It reminded me of all the things I like best, like summer, and flowers, and horses, and rabbits, I'm especially fond of rabbits."

"If you're fond of horses, come and meet Cesar." said the Phantom. He led her to a cave near the lake that he had turned into a stable. There was Cesar, the Opera's white horse that he had stolen. Elizabeth approached him slowly, but without fear. Soon she was petting him and he was muzzling her. Erik silently passed her a carrot from his pocket and she fed it to Cesar while murmuring to him.

"Can you ride?" Erik asked after a while.

"Yes." Elizabeth replied instantly.

"I will take him out now to do some shopping. When I return you may take him for a ride. He could use the exercise."

"Oh thank you, Erik." Elizabeth turned to Erik and hugged him. Erik, somewhat awkwardly hugged her back.

Erik led Cesar out of the stable and swung himself up on the horse's back. He gave Elizabeth the lamp so she could find her way back to his lair as he had no further use for it. It occurred to him she might use it to find her way out of the Opera House, away from him. He shrugged at this thought. It was no affaire of his if she left.

As he rode out of the Opera House he let his mind drift He thought about the new piece of music he was working on. It was not his usual style, being very light and fanciful, but he rather liked it. He wondered whether he could expand some of the themes and create a whole opera like that. _What would it be about? _he mused. He thought about it for a few moments, but no plots suggested themselves to him, so he decided to pursue the idea later. He thought about the opera he was almost finished, _Don Juan Triumphant. _He only had to fine-tune the ending…

Abruptly he realized that he had left the Opera House and was on the street, so he set his mind to the immediate job of purchasing. He saved the fun, namely searching for little things for Christine, for last. He found a silver hair-brush and mirror with gold trim that pleased him very much. On his way back to the Opera House he noticed a man selling livestock. Drifting closer, he saw a basket set apart from the rest of the animals. In the basket was a white, fluffy rabbit. With a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he bought the rabbit, which turned out to be female.

When he got back to the Opera House Elizabeth came running to meet him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Erik was so shocked he nearly dropped all his parcels. Elizabeth, realizing this, stepped back.

"I was lonely." She explained. Erik gave her a weird look and went to unpack his purchases. When he gave Elizabeth the rabbit she was ecstatic. She held the small creature in her arms and gazed at her happily.

"I think I'll call her Arminta." She said. Erik threw back his head and laughed. Imagine naming a rabbit after Don Juan's most famous victim. When he got himself under control he proposed to Elizabeth that they go up onto the roof of the Opera House to admire the view. Erik couldn't help being proud of his home and enjoyed showing it off, especially to someone as enthusiastic as Elizabeth. She agreed to the excursion, and it was not long after that that Carlotta saw them.


	3. The Phantom's Paying

(Disclaimer: I don't own the song "The Lady's Paying" by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don Black , and Christopher Hampton; but I did make up the variation I used for the title of the chapter. I own M. and Mme Courtois, or the shop attendant, or Sarah de Chagny. See previous disclaimers.)

(Editor's Note: Hi, Mersang here. I'd just like to warn you all that the timing of futureupdates will be a bit erratic, as it's now exam time for my friend and myself. Sorry about that.)

**3. "Well, All You Need To Know's The Phantom's Paying."**

_December 27, 1881._

Elizabeth was smiling when she woke up. She had been dreaming she was riding Cesar with Erik. She wondered whether Erik would let her take Cesar out for a ride. _Well,_ she thought, _I'd better ask him instead of lying around in bed all day. _She sat up and stretched. When she had awoken the day before she had found on the foot of her bed the costume used by the countess in the opera _Il Muto_. Today she found a dress that was much simpler, but was definitely more elegant. She put it on and hurried into the other room where Erik was waiting with breakfast.

They chatted a bit while they ate, and Erik told her about the opera he had been to see the night previously.

"Tonight's performance will be _Faust_, by Gounod. Would you like to see it?" Erik asked abruptly.

"Yes..." Elizabeth replied hesitantly.

"You don't sound too sure."

"It's just..." Elizabeth paused, trying to phrase her thoughts in a delicate manner. "Wouldn't the lady you frequently mention, Mlle Daae, be a better companion for you?"

"Christine Daae will be singing the role of Margarita, or you may be sure I would most certainly have asked her to accompany me." Erik snapped. Elizabeth opened her mouth to snap back at him, but shut it again just in time. For a few minutes they glared at each other across the table. Then Elizabeth bent her head over her toast and continued eating. Erik did not. He sat thinking for a while. He was surprised that sweet, easygoing Elizabeth had come so close to snapping at him. But gradually through his surprise a new thought emerged. Christine would not have snapped at him like that. _Come to think of it,_ he thought, _I don't believe I have ever seen Christine angry before. Sad, yes. Afraid, yes. Hurt, yes. But angry, no. It almost seems a bit unnatural. Everyone gets angry sometimes._

"Elizabeth," he said aloud, "I apologise for my behaviour just now. I should not have addressed you that way. I'm sorry." And he suddenly found that he was sorry. Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled.

"I accept your apology, but it was unnecesary. You told me the truth and I should not have reacted so to it. I apologise too."

"I accept you apology." Erik said. "Now, if you're to go see an opera, from the best seat in the house may I add, you will need some decent clothes."

Elizabeth looked down at the table. "Oh." She said in a low voice. "In that case, I'm afraid I can't come. You see, I have no money for clothes."

The Phantom reached across the table and took her hand in his. For his next speech he was going to require a great deal more tact than he was accustomed to using.

"Elizabth, I would consider it a great favour if you would accompany me to tonight's opera. Please allow me to return the favour by purchasing your clothes."

She looked up into his deep-set, black eyes. What she saw there gave her hope. "Thank you." She said at last. "You would more than return the favour."

"Very well." The Opera Ghost stood up. "Since you seem to be done breakfast, let us be on our way."

Erik did not saddle Cesar that day becuse he and Elizabeth would have to ride double and the only saddle he had was the wrong shape for that. He discovered that Elizabeth did indeed know how to ride. She sat behind him quite easily, and although she kept one hand on his shoulder she seemed not to need the support. Just before they started she hesitantly asked him to ride gently at first.

"You see," she said in a low voice, "my home is in the country, where no one can see me, so I learned to ride wearing my brother's clothes. I'm not very good at riding side-saddle yet."

"I see. You really are quite the young _lady_!" the Ghost said mockingly. Elizabeth said nothing. Apparently yesterday's good humour had been an exception rather than the norm for him. Then it occured to her that that remark might have been intended to be a joke. Recklessly she decided to chance it.

"I'm no less a lady than you are a gentleman!" she replied spiritedly. Erik laughed, and Elizabeth laughed with him. They rode out of the Opera house, but Erik didn't ride directly out into the streets of Paris. first they wnt to the stables/coachhouse at the side of the building. When they entered Erik glanced around.

"We're in luck," he said as he dismounted and helped Elizabeth down. He led Cesar over to a carriage. "The Vicompte really shouldn't leave his carriage around. He probably came to take Christine out, and now he won't be able to." The carriage was just big enough for two. "Hop in," Erik told Elizabeth, so she did. He hitched up Cesar, swung himself into the vehicle, and took up the reins.

Erik drove to the most fashionable part of Paris, and stopped outside a ladies clothing store. He decsended and helped Elizabeth to do likewise. A richly dressed lady came out of the store and swept off down the street without even bothering to glance at Erik and Elizabeth.

"That's Madame Courtois.I'm rather glad she didn't recognise us, or she probably would have got quite hysterical. Twice I have had to get nasty with her when she's visited the Opera House." Erik told Elizabeth while he led Cesar around to the side of the shop to the stalls for the shoppers' horses and carriages. "The funny thing is," Erik continued, "that I rather like her husband. I like to devise plots to make her look ridiculous, while giving him a chance to look like a hero." Erik led Eliazabeth into the store. A well-dressed attendant came up to them.

"May I be of assistance?" The attendant asked.

"Yes, you can." Erik said. "This lady requires clothes, for both day to day wear and for attending operas."

"Erik!" Elizabeth protested. "I only need a dress for tonight's opera. I can borrow the rest."

"You can't go around in the countess's clothing, it's not proper. Just be quiet and let me do this. I don't want you to make me look bad." Elizabeth chucled at this statement, but held her piece while Erik and the attendant discussed fashion. The attendant gave Elizabeth a couple of ready-made dresses to try on, so she didn't hear most of what they were saying. When she returned, Erik showed her a bolt of red material.

"How would you like a dress made of this? Mlle here tells me this colour is the height of elegance this season."

"Actually, Monsieur, I belive the lady would look even better in a dress made of that, trimmed with a darker colour. Perhaps a royal blue." The attendant suggested.

"You're right." Erik agreed. "What do you say, Elizabeth?"

"What can I say but thank you from the bottom of my heart? You have been too good to me."

"Oh I'm not quite done with you yet. You'll also need a riding costume for when you ride Cesar in the city." He turned to the attendant. "What would you reccomend, Mlle?"

"I believe..." the attendant rummaged around for a few moments, "that this would be appropriate." She held up an outfit that had long sleeves and did not have quite as full a skirt as the other dresses. Elizabeth had her doubts about it's being any more practical than her other clothes, but at least it would be warm enough to wear outside. She muttered as much to Erik.

"Oh, that reminds me," he said, "you'll need a warm cloak as well."

"Oh, Erik, you shouldn't!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Yes I should. I'm bored, and being generous amuses me." He suddenly remembered what he had said earlier. "And don't forget I'm repaying a favour."

"Well, you more than have. Thank you Erik, thank you very much."

Erik's eyes had been roaming around the shop. Suddenly he strode over to a stand of cloaks. He took one down and examined it. He glanced around and, seeing that the attendant was elsewhere, he pulled off one of his gloves to stroke the material. He let out a low whistle as he put the glove back on.

"How do you like this?" He asked Elizabeth. She went over and saw that he was holding a black cloak - but what a cloak! It hung off Erik's hands like a liquid, yet it was thick and oh, it was soft! Elizabeth couldn't stop touching it. It was fine black velvet on the outside, and it was silk on the inside. It had a fur collar and the hood, which was also velvet and silk, was trimmed with a narrow strip of the same fur. Erik slipped it around Elizabeth's shoulders and stepped back to take a look. She drew up the hood, enjoying the feel of the smooth lining against her cheeks. Erik caught his breath. Black was_certainly_ her colour. He would never have guessed it but the hood framed her face to perfection. The cloak was a bit long by current fashion, but it looked good on her. And of course it would look good if he appeared at the opera accompanied by a woman in black. No, good wasn't the right word. It would look _awful_ if he appeared with Elizabeth in tow wearing that! He stiffled the urge to break out into one of his famous laughs. And it just so happened that the ready-made dress they had picked out for that night was red...blood red. _Perfect!_ He thought.

"I think we'll take it." He said to Elizabeth. "What do you say?"

"Really? Why, you'll never get rid of me if you keep spoiling me like this." She teased him gently. Erik wondered what a spoilt Elizabeth would be like. He just couldn't imagine her throwing a tantrum like Carlotta, for instance.

The attendant came back and Erik told her what they had chosen. They were just leaving the shop when a lady came in. Erik started slightly but continued on. When they were outside he said:

"What a coincidence! That was Mlle Sarah de Chagny, a cousin of the Compte and Vicompte's I wonder what she thought if she saw her cousin's carriage here? Well, I hope it causes trouble for him." Erik seemed to find this idea quite amusing, and he began to chuckle. He was surprised to hear Elizabeth laughing softly also. "You find the thought amusing?" He inquired.

"The fop could use some trouble. Maybe if we're really lucky he'll grow up a bit." She answered spiritedly. This time Erik laughed out loud. As they were in the stable some of the horses shied nevously. Not Cesar, though. He just gave Erik a look that said plainer than words: _If you're quite finished making that idiotic noise, I would like to go home._

On the way home the sky clouded over and it started to snow. At first it wasn't too bad, but then the wind came up. Erik glanced over to see that Elizabeth was huddled in the seat, tryint to keep warm. While urging Cesar to greater speed, he shrugged off his cloak and threw it over her.

They reached the Opera House not long after, but they were still both half frozen. Erik left Cesar in the stable for the stable boys to take care of and took Elizabeth down to the warm kitchens to thaw out.


	4. Box 5 Was To Be Kept Empty!

(Author's Note: Here's Chapter four, sorry for the wait. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I own the family, but I think I already said that in a previous disclaimer. See previous disclaimers. Oh, and I don't own the quotation I used for the title; ALW, Richard Stilgoe, & Charles Hart do.)

(Editor's Note: This is set about mid-novel, before the Masquerade ball.)

**4. "Did I Not Instruct That Box Five Was To Be Kept Empty?" **

_December 27, 1881; 9:00 in the evening._

"Good Gracious, Erik, you can't seriously be expecting me to wear this! It's hardly decent!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She hadn't noticed certain things about the red dress Erik had bought for her to wear that evening to the opera, but when she laid it on her bed to look at before she dressed she realized that it was extremely...well, revealing. Yes, it had long full skirts, but it was sleeveles, and the neckline...

"You call that a neckline?" Elizabeth asked the dress with a snort. "It doesn't go anywhere near my neck!"

"That kind of dress is the height of fashion. You will be dressed just like all the other ladies there, and better than some. Now put it on, we have to leave soon," Erik ordered. Elizabeth obeyed, grumbling. She soon found a way to get back at Erik for the embaressment he was causing her. She had put on most of the petticoats, the chemise, and the corset. Normally she only wore a lightly laced corset, for she had a very good natural figure, but this dress required a slimmer waistline than that.

"Erik," she called, "can you come here a moment? I need some help."

"Comming." Erik replied. He came in reading a sheet of music. He looked up. He started and did his best to blush. "What on Earth..." He trailed off, unable to complete the question.

"Would you help me do up this corset? I can't quite reach." Elizabeth asked him pleasently. Erik just stood there. What could he do? Every particle of his hard-won gentlemanliness revolted at the idea of laying hands on a woman in her _underwear_! And yet...who else was there to help her? Unwillingly he walked over to her.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked helplessly.

"Tighten the laces." Elizabeth told him sweetly, though her voice quivered slightly with mirth. Erik didn't notice. He tugged at the laces.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! Pretend the laces are a Punjab Lasso, and I am Piangi's neck." Elizabeth ordered. That got results. The corset was perhaps a little tighter than it needed to be, but that was perfectly fine as far as Elizabeth as concerned. Once she was dressed properly (at least by Erik's stadards), she donned her cloak and Erik took her across the lake. It was only when they entered a brightly lit hall that she noticed Erik's clean, neatly pressed suit, shiny shoes, immaculate white gloves, and clean cloak.

"My, you look nice." She said, frankly admiring.

"Thank you." Erik replied, pleased by the compliment. "I had to make some token attempt, so I was not completely eclipsed by you." Elizabeth flushed slightly, but otherwise took the extrvagent flattery gracefully. Erik offered her his arm and escorted her to Box Five. The orchestra had just finnished warming up when they arrived. Erik led Elizabeth to the front seats in the box, where they had a completely unobstructed view of the show, and where the rest of the opera-goers had an unobstructed view of them. Soon the word had gone around the hall that the Ghost was in Box Five. It took a little longer for Elizabeth's presence to become known about, because many people were sceptical about the idea that the Phantom had a companion. Christine, when she heard about it, was so surprised that she didn't notice Carlotta's snide comments about it. She wondered if it had anything to do with the incident on Christmas Day...

The opera was very good; both Elizabeth and the Phantom enjoyed it very much. During the intermission they went for a stroll through the Opera House and Erik showed Elizabeth all the fine furnishings of the part the public saw. Outside Box Five Erik was not so recognisable as the Phantom, so nobody paid them much attention. As the end of the intermission drew near, they made their way back to the Ghost's box. When they arrived they were quite surprised to find it was already occupied by a man, a woman, and two children. Erik puased at the door and said in a menacing drawl:

"What do you think you're doing here?" The man turned aroun and said irratably:

"We were trying to watch an opera before you so rudely interupted us. Kindly go away, we missed the first half and we don't want to miss any more."

"Kindly go away?" Erik repeated incredulously. "Monsieur, this is my private box, and you and your family have no business here. I will thank you to leave, before I have to get nasty."

The man gazed levelly at Erik for an instant. "Are you threatening me? You did not object to us occupying this box the other night. Why this sudden change in attitude?"

"You sat here the other night? You were permitted to sit here? How dare those fools who call themselves managers allow _my_ private box to be occupied?" Erik was working himself into a murderous rage. Elizabeth decided to intervene before he got too angry to listen to reason.

"Erik, does it really matter? They're not doing any harm. And if you weren't here to notice that they were here the other night, why do you mind their presence?"

"Don't try and sweet talk me into letting them get away with this, Elizabeth" The Phantom growled beginning to pace toward the family. Elizabeth stepped in front of him.

"Give me a good reason to allow you to do this, and I will." She said quietly.

"Get out of the way." Erik ordered. Elizabeth didn't move.

"Just one reason, Erik. If you don't give me one, I will assume you don't have one, and are therefor not going to do it." She didn't have to specify what Erik was planning on doing to the family. She looked Erik straight in the face for a couple of long minutes. Finally it was Erik who looked away. Without a word he turned and left the box. Elizabeth took a step after him but he turned and snarled:

"Stay away from me!" So Elizabeth waited untill he was gone before walking slowly and sadly away. _Why did I push him?_ she asked herself. _Why did I have to go and spoil what could have been the best night of my life? Yes, it would have hard to watch an opera at the side of a murderer, but I could have done it. And now he hates me...I can't bear it!_ And with that thought she sat down on the floor in a dim corner and started to cry softly. She just couldn't seem to stop crying, so she cried untill she was so exhausted she fell into an uneasy doze.

It was well past midnight when Erik found her slumped there with tear stains on her cheeks, looking like a broken doll that someone had thrown away. It was quite tricky to pick her up without waking her up, but Erik managed it. As he walked back to his lair he asked himself why he bothered. He was forced to admit to himself that he didn't have a reason, just like a few hours ago in Box Five, when for the first time someone had challenged him and had not only been right, but had gotten out of the incident alive...


	5. My Hand Wins!

(A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Spanish Train" by Cris DeBurgh, or anyother songin this chapter. That good enough for you Phangirls (and others)? I just want to say thank you, Daddy, both for reading this and for lending me all your music so I have something to listen to while I type. Sorry for the wait, but the School Board invented a torture called exams. Honestly, they're as sadistic as Erik himself!)

(Editor's Note: No, the above is NOT implying that I am her father. A: I am not related. B: I'm younger than she is. C: I'M A GIRL!)

Question: What is a Mary Sue? I've seen the term, and I understand that it's a bad thing in fanfiction, but what does it mean?

**5. "My Hand Wins!"**

_December 28, 1881_

Elizabeth woke up feeling warm and happy. Afer a few minutes of lying there, though, she began to feel uneasy, as though something were wrong. _What could it be?_ she wondered. Then she remembered last night. She almost started crying again, but just before she did she opened her eyes... and sat bolt upright from shock. It was as if last night had never happened. She was in Erik's spare room bed!

"But why? How?" she gasped in wonderment. Erik appeared at the door. For a few moments he said nothing, then:

"Did you sleep well?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, just fine thank you." Elizabeth replied. She tried to keep her voice calm, but despite her efforts it shook slightly. Erik just stood there looking at her. He almost felt sorry for her. She looked so frightened. _And well she might!_ He told himself, trying to invoke some of last night's anger. He succeeded only partly. He opened his mouth to give her hell for her behaviour but she spoke up first.

"Erik, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't think. You were perfectly right to defend your property and your rights in whatever way you wish. I was wrong to speak to you like that, and to do so in public was inexcusable. For what little its worth, I apologize."

Erik was dumfounded. She had objected, as any sane and reasonable person would have, to him committing murder, and now she was apologizing for it. And she seemed genuinely sorry, not just trying to save her neck. He didn't know what to do. No one had ever apologized to him before. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to accept her apology and withdraw discretely so she could dress, but he wasn't feeling at all like a gentleman. He decided to compromise.

"You'd better be sorry," he growled. "Now get up and get dressed."

When Elizabeth was alone she had a hard timeholdiong back herlaughter,she was so relieved. She was aware that Erik was too angry and proud to say he had forgiven her, but he had as good as told her she could perhaps win that forgiveness. She hopped out of bed and rummaged around in the bureau that she kept her clothes in. When she was dressed she left her room and Erik waiting for her at the table. Arminta was munching something in a corner and the whole scene looked very peaceful, but Elizabeth could feel the tension that lurked beneath the surface.

After breakfast Erik prowled around his lair while Elizabeth played quietly with Arminta. He was bored, and he didn't know what he wanted to do. He admitted to himself that the last few days had been entertaining. His mind jumped from the entertainment of the last few days to entertainment in general. He suddenly wondered if Elizabeth could sing. He asked her.

"Well, a bit. Not Opera though." She said.

"Sing for me." Erik ordered. Elizabeth stood up and took a deep breath.

Shedid not have a great voice, not like Christine, but it was quite pleasant to listen to, and Erik found it quite enjoyable. Of course, since he had no interest in training her, he could just listen uncritically, because it was none of his business to help her improve. Not that she could improve much; she had pretty much reached her full potential already.

"That was nice." He commented. "Sing another." For all the imperious wording, it was a request, which Elizabeth happily complied to.

Erik liked this one even more than the first. "Bravo." He applauded. Elizabeth smiled and began the next song.

Erik didn't applaud this time. He couldn't break the silence that followed the last note. The last song was sung in a lower range than the other two and Elizabeth had done a beautiful job with it. There was something about her rendition of the song that was special. It had a certain quality, that Erik couldn't quite identify, that Christine's singing lacked. The certain quality was sincerity. Elizabeth meant every word with all her heart. She didn't know why Erik was silent, so after a few minutes of silence she asked timidly:

"Shall I sing another?"

Erik nodded. "Yes please. Could you sing something light?"

Elizabeth thought for a few moments, and then sang "Mungojerrie And Rumpleteazer". After, with a wink at Erik, she sang "Macavity: The Mystery Cat". When she finished Erik told her to stop before she wore out her voice.

"But Erik, I'm not..."

"Do you play cards?" Erik interrupted.

"Yes." Elizabeth replied. Erik fetched a deck of cards and they played a game of whist. Elizabeth lost badly.

"I didn't say I could play _well_, I just said I could play. I'm better at poker."

"But poker's no fun unless you gamble." Erik protested.

"So let us gamble. I don't have much, but I'll do my best."

Erik looked shocked. After all, young ladies do not gamble. Then he remembered that Elizabeth was a most unusual young lady. In fact, to call her a young lady one would have to completely rewrite the definition. "All right, we will gamble. What will you put up?"

"What do you want?" Elizabeth asked boldly. Erik had to think about that for a moment. What did he want...That she could pay? Then he had an idea.

"You must promise, on pain of death, never to criticize my judgment again," he said firmly.

"But I wasn't going to, anyway; so that doesn't benefit you particularly." Elizabeth protested. The Phantom looked irritated.

"Very well then, if I win you will have to... Answer two of my questions truthfully and at as great length as I say. How's that?"

"Fine. And If _I_ win you must... you must... oh, I can't decide. You chose: will your forfeit be to go maskless to the next opera, or to give me a dance at the Masquerade Ball?"

Erik gasped and gaped at her in consternation. What a choice! And yet neither was really awful. The dance would perhaps be rather pleasant, and if he were alone in Box Five being maskless wouldn't be so bad, might be a nice rest in fact... Clever Elizabeth to come up with those two forfeits like that.

"Neither is too awful. I chose both. Now, shall we play?"

Erik let Elizabeth deal, and they were off. It was a long game. Both were playing carefully because of the stakes. Elizabeth was being more careful than Erik, who started out playing carelessly, thinking her boast about her skill to be just that, a boast. He soon found out his mistake. His opponent was not a flamboyant player, but she was very good, and a master at a poker-face. If Erik hadn't known better, he would have sworn she was wearing a mask. The end of the game was very tense, but Erik was pretty sure he'd won when Elizabeth laid down her cards. Erik gasped. Not only did she have a good hand, she had subtly almost concealed a card behind another so he had missed it. She had won alright. Erik laughed and swept up the cards.

"I'll stick to playing whist with you, Mlle... Elizabeth. By the way, if I may be so bold, what is your last name?"

"Holmes. Don't look so surprised; I was born English. I have spent much of my life in France, where I learned French."

"Well, Elizabeth Holmes, shall we go and take some air up on the roof?"

"I would be honored to accompany you, Monsieur Le Fantome." Elizabeth answered with a regal curtsy. Erik blew out the candle and took her hand so he wouldn't have to light a lamp.

_(A/N: In case you're wondering, there is something odd about the songs Elizabeth sang. I chose those particular songs for a reason, several reasons actually. Don't worry, all the mysteries surrounding her will be cleared up in the end.) _


	6. Interlude

(A/N: As the title indicates, this is an interlude to set the stage for the next chapter, where the plot is really going to start thickening. Disclaimer: See previous chapters, there are no new characters coming in. _Yet_.)

**6. Interlude**

Before finding out what happens next to Erik and Elizabeth, I would appreciate it if my Readers would allow me to focus on some other people's lives for a while. There are some things going on that niether Elizabeth nor Erik (omnicient as he is) know about. For instance, this conversation that Meyerlings had with the managers...

Right after the Opera that Erik so violently interrupted, Herr and Frau Meyerling went to the managers to complain.

"Who was the madman who tried to forcibly eject us from our box after the intermission?" Frau Meyerling demanded. Firmin paled slightly and Andre swore under his breath.

"What did he look like?" Firmin asked, hoping that by some miracle there had been two madmen in the Opera House that night.

"He was tall, and dressed all in black dinner clothes. He had white gloves. He wore a floor-length black cloak, with the hood pulled almost completely over his face. He had a very memorable voice, but I can't quite pinpoint what was so remarkable about it."

"And he was wearing a white mask." Said the five-year-old Fraulien Rosa Meyerling. Firmin swallowed several nasty words.

"That," he said grimly "was the Phantom of the Opera. What box were you in?"

"Box Five. We were delayed, so we only arrived during the intermission. Just as act two was beginning they arrived and..."

"Why on Earth didn't you sit in the box you paid for?" Andre demanded angrily. "Box Five is reserved for the Ghost. No wonder he was angry..."

"But I paid for Box Five!" Herr Meyerling protested. The managers gasped and looked at each other.

"Why...? How...? Who..." spluttered Andre.

"Yes, who? Who sold you Box Five?" Asked Firmin.

"The young lady in the box office."

Firmin groaned. "That would have been one of the Ballet girls. Mme Giry had then helping out in their spare time because we're understaffed right now. I'm sorry Herr, Frau, Frauliens, we'll refund you the money, or give you a different box for the duration of your stay, but we cannot let you have Box Five, for your own safety. It's a miracle you are still alive."

"Give them which other box? We're sold out." Andre pointed out dryly. Firmin remained calm.

"We can give them our box. It's the second best in the house anyway. Would that suit you?"

"Perfectly," said Frau Meyerling. They turned to leave, but then Frau remembered something and turned back.

"Would you thank this Phantom's lady for saving our lives? It was a brave thing to do."

"What lady?" Andre asked.

"He had a lady with him. She was small, quite pretty, and very becomingly dressed in a red dress and a black cloak. She had reddish-brown hair."

Firmin feigned calmness. "I don't know her, but if I see her I shall pass on your words." He said. When the family were gone he and Andre stared at each other. That was _not_ Christine Daae! Why was the Phantom going to Operas with another woman when he proffessed to love Christine...?

That same evening Raoul asked Christine to come to dinner with him. She accepted, and very soon was sitting across the table from him enjoying a fine dinner. Phillipe was a few minutes late, but he soon hurried in, appologising charmingly to his brother and Christine.

"I hear your Phantom has given up on you and has another companion." Phillipe said lightly.

"What?" demanded Raoul.

"It is true," confirmed Christine. "The Ghost had a lady sitting with him in Box Five. Raoul, remember the woman I told you of on Christmas Day? I think it must be her. Who else could it be?"

"What woman on Christmas Day?" asked Phillipe. Christine told him what she had seen. Phillipe looked grave. Like Raoul, he knew better than sweet, naive Christine what the Phantom, or any cruel man, was capable of doing to a girl who had no escape. And from what Raoul had repeated to him of Christine's story of her adventures with Erik, he doubted this woman could escape. He wondered whether he should suggest that Raoul and Christine leave the country and get married while the Phantom was distacted, but he decided to keep quiet. The conversation turned to other matters, but Phillipe decided to keep his eyes and ears open with regards to this strange girl.

That evening a thunderstorm blew up suddenly, and Christine was invited to stay the night. Without telling anyone, Phillipe spent the night in a room ajoining hers. He didn't really think the Ghost would let her go this easily, so he might be angry that she was spending the night in the de Chagny house. Nothing happened, though.

_Nothing's happened **yet**,_ Phillipe corrected himself.

Obviously Carlotta was sick that day, or Christine wouldn't have gotten the part of Margarita. The next day she was worse. That same day, three of the ballet girls went home sick before noon, and after noon four of the chorus also left. That evening the papers told the story: A highly contageous strain of influenza was spreading through Paris because people involved with the Opera House had contracted it and had unknowingly passed it to the audiance. The virus was of middle severity, but it was still looking like an epidemic. The managers were horrified. The Masquerade ball was days away, and it would have to be cancelled, or at least postponed!


	7. Don't Leave Me

(A/N Sorry for the long delay... (author grovels in front of enraged readers brandishing Punjaab Lassos) But I think this chapter is worth the wait, I worked really hard on it. Thanks to my friend who put up with me running ideas by her until I got the right combination. Thanks also again to my Dad who lent me his/our Andrew Lloyd Webber to listen to while I type. Disclaimer: See previous chapters, no one new comes into this chapter. )

**7. "Christine...Don't Leave Me..." **

_December 29, 1881_

Elizabeth was woken up at some ungodly hour by a crashing chord. She sat bolt upright with shock, then recognised the sounds as Erik playing the organ. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, so she sleepily got up. Erik had mentionned that she could swim in the lake if she wished, and she thought a swim might wake her up so she rummaged in the wardrobe for something she could use as a swimming costume. She found the clothes she had been wearing when she arrived at the Opera House, which included a pair of thick tights and an undershirt that looked a bit like a dancer's leotard. She put them on and padded out of her room, enjoying the feel of the luxurious Persian carpets on her bare feet. Erik's door was half open, and she paused a moment to watch him and listen to his stunning music.

The music made her feel uneasy after a few minutes, and as her unease grew she realized this must be Erik's _Don Juan Triumphant_. She turned and, instinctively moving as quietly as she could, she left Erik's dwelling and walked to the lake. The water was cold, and she was soon tired of swimming hard enough to keep herself warm. She left the lake, cursed herself for forgetting to bring something to dry herself with, wrung the excess water out of her hair, and returned to the comparitive warmth of the Phantom's Lair. As she crossed the 'living room' she heard Erik break off his playing and the rustle of papers as he scribbled down his music. While he was writing, he suddenly coughed a couple of times. Elizabeth paused at his door, and when he halted his furious scribbling she asked if she could fetch him a drink. He swung around at the sound of her voice.

"Good Lord!" he said, staring at her. "What are you wearing? Or not wearing, perhaps I should (cough, cough) say!"

"I was swimming in the lake," Elizabeth replied primly, suddenly remebering that wet fabric clings to whatever it touches.

"I see. Now that you mention it, my throat is awfully dry. Funny, I haven't been doing much singing. I'll get it, though. You don't know where the kitchens are." Erik stood up, and was immediately hit with a wave of dizzines. He nearly collapsed, saving himself only by blindly putting his hand out to catch himself and leaning his weight on the organ keys, which let out a horrible, discordant sound. Instantly Elizabeth was at his side.

"Erik, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice suddenly shrill with worry.

"'M dizzy..." Erik half mumbled, half croaked. He had trouble recognising her all of a sudden, trouble remebering her name. Elizabeth felt fear touch her with its cold finger at the sound of his voice. She reached up and laid her hand on his cheekbone and temple, and nearly gasped in shock. His normally ice-cold flesh was far warmer than hers.

"Erik," she said, "you have a fever. I'm putting you to bed. Then I'm going to find the kitchens and a drink for you. You shouldn't get dehydrated." She guided him towards his coffin, then thought better of it and steered him into her room. As soon as he let go of the organ he was forced to lean on Elizabeth, for the world seemed to be swaying as though it were as drunk as Piangi.

When he was tucked cosily up in bed, Elizabeth bent over him and asked him if he could give her directions to the kitchens. Haltingly Erik rasped out as much as he could before being caught by a paroxism of coughing. When he stopped Elizabeth was leaving the room.

" 'Lizabeth," he called, "put on some clothes." Elizabeth swereved to get a dress out of the wardrobe, and hurried out of the room. She was more worried than she let on to Erik. She put on the dress and ran up the passages and staircases to the ground floor of the Opera House. She soon found the hall Erik had spoken of and with it the kitchens. She entered boldly as though she were supposed to be there. and began to help herself to anything she thought she might need to take care of Erik. Soon an official-looking person bustled up to her, demanding to know what she was doing.

"I'm here on the Opera Ghost's bussiness. Please let me be." Elizabeth said. The official-looking person did more than let her be, he recoiled as though she had said she had the Black Death. After that Elizabeth was unhindered. She was allowed to take a large basket and fill it with supplies. She took her leave and retraced her route back to Erik.

When had she found her way and had once again regained his bedside she saw he was worse. He had thrown off the blankets and was tossing and turning. He was sweating and shivering. _And_ he was muttering deliriously. Elizabeth realized she would need to get his fever down before she would be able to give him anything much to drink, for there was no way she could keep him still enough. She put down the basket and quickly filled the wash basin from the lake, praying as she did so that the water was reasonably clean. She dampened one of the towels and began to bathe Erik's burning face. He twisted away, complaining of the cold. Elizabeth reached out and laid her hand on his cheek and jaw to hold him still and recomenced cooling him down as she said:

"Hold still, Erik dear, this will help, I promise." In response Erik opened his eyes, and said:

"Christine...Don't leave me...I need you...Please..." Then he sank back into semi conciousness.

When the cloth was warm and half dry Elizabeth stopped trying to cool him off. Twice more he had called her Christine, each time becoming more agitated. Now Elizabeth went to the organ and took the piece of paper that had the least written on it and wrote Christine a letter, begging her to come to her Angel of Music, "For God's sake and mine if not for his". Then she slipped out and ran to the managers' office, only stopping once to ask directions. They agreed to send it to Mlle Daae, and Elizabeth sped back to Erik, praying Christine would come.


	8. Shocked, Appalled, and Disappointed

(A/N:Sorry, Sorry, Sorry...author grovels in front of angry and impatient mob. It won't happen again. Excuses: 1)A bad case of writers block, 2)A new semester with a new load of homework, and 3)Writing another fanfic withanother friend, who just developed a crush one one of my characters - what can you do, eh? Anyway:

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Persian, or the song "For Always". Is that good enough for you? It isn't? Well, see previous chapters then. By the way, the race is on between Elizabeth and Christine for Erik's love. I lost control of my characters a bit in this chapter, and Christine suddenly started being a real bitch. I really didn't know she had it in her. I hope for Erik's sake that either Christine starts behaving better, or he falls out of love with her, because he probably won't like what she seems to be turning into. Oh, well, we shall have to wait and see... On to chapter eight.

* * *

**8. "Shocked, Appalled, and Disapointed!"**

_December 29, 1881. Later._

Elizabeth had never been much given to praying, but over the course of that nightmare-ish day she said every prayer she knew and then some. Erik continued to worsen. His extreme lifestyle had finally caught up with him, and he simply hadn't the strength to fight this illness. His fever continued to rise, despite Elizabeth's efforts. She didn't dare try to sweat the fever out of him, for she knew thata temperature too highcould cause brain damage. To make things worse, he continued to call out for Christine, and he seemed able to sense that Elizabeth, despite her answering to both names, was not reallyhis beloved. As his temperature rose, so did his agitation. Elizabeth wished she had some way of soaking him in the lake, that would probably bring his fever down.

_Where in heaven's name is Christine?_ She wondered desperately. She kindled a small fire in an uncarpetted corner of the room, and began heating some water, lemon juice and honey for Erik's poor throat. When she returned to Erik's bedside she felt his forehed and bit her lip. He seemed even hotter than before. Then an idea hit her. One didn't need a lake to soak someone. Wet blankets would cool him down just as well.

It took several trips to the lake to thoroughly soak Erik and the bedding. He was most uncoopperative; he kept trying to throw off the blankets, complaining of cold.

"Keep still!" Elizabeth finally snapped at him. "I know it's cold, but it will make you feel better soon." To her surprise Erik almost ceased his thrashing.

"Yes, mother," he muttered. He was not being sarcastic. Elizabeth wondered if it was a good sign or a bad one that he was regressing back to childhood. She felt his forehead and wondered whether there was any improvement. At least he was no worse. She attempted to feed him the lemon-honey drink and with a great deal of coaxingFrik got most of it down. Soon after, though, he lapsed back into a semi-consious state. Elizabeth felt the blankets and found that they were still much cooler than Erik was, so she sat down on the edge of the bed with a feeling of hopelessness. There was simply nothing more she could do for him. He was not responding to her. She wished yet again that Christine would come. She stroked his face and head, sadly.

"Please get well, Erik. I know it's hard, but keep fighting. For Christine's sake, and mine. What will she do without her Angel of Music?"

"Christine...Sing...Please...?" Erik rasped. Elizabeth was taken aback. It was the first coherent thing he had said in nearly an hour. Still, maybe it was a good sign. Now if he would only go on thinking she was Christine, even though they sang so differently. She chose a song that she was positive Erik had never heard before; For Always.

At the end of the last note she approached Erik and saw that he seemed quieter. She felt his forehead, and her heartbeat skyrocetted with excitement. His fever was definitely lower! 

"Thank God!" she breathed. Erik muttered something inaudible and Elizabeth pulled herself together. He was not well yet, not by a long shot. Just then she heard a voice call her name from th other room. She hurried out and saw a dark-skinned man.

"Are you Elizabeth?" he demanded.

"Yes," she responded.

"I am the Persian. I have a letter from Mlle Daae, and a newspaper article that may interest you." He handed her the letter. It was merely folded in half. Elizabeth read it with mounting rage.

"Dammit!" she swore on finishing it. It was impossible to tell if the Persian was shocked by her outburst. The letter said in a very roundabout way that Christine would not go to Erik, because she was afraid of becoming ill herself.

"I don't blame you for being angry," the Persian said. "Why Erik loves the selfish bitch is a mystery to me. He should have fallen in love with someone like you," he finished blandly. Elizabeth glanced at him sharply. He merely handed her the newspaper clipping. A portion of text was underlined.

"The citizens of Paris will no doubt be pleased to learn that M. le Vicompte de Chagny's illness was quite light and he was nursed by his childhood friend, Mlle Daae, who sings in the chorus with the Opera de Paris."

"Good God! In your own words Monsieur, the little **_BITCH!_** How dare she go to him when her angel is in delirious agony and calling out for her. It is good she is not here or I would strangle her."

"Is there anything _I_ can do to help?" the Persian asked, anxiously. Here at last was someone who shared his (admittedly, very low) opinion of Christine. Perhaps Elizabeth would succed where he could not, and convince the Opera Ghost to give up 'Mlle Daae'.

"If I thought kidnapping Christine and bringing her here would help I would have you do that, but that won't do it."

"Perhaps you could shame her into coming by sending a letter to the editor of the newspaper with the whole story?" the Persian suggested. Elizabeth almost smiled, but was too tired and discouraged to manage a proper smile.

"I'll try it. Will you wait here while I write it?"

The Persian smiled back and sat down to wait. Eilzabeth found some more paper and wrote a stinging, but truthful account of the whole situation.

"Dear Editor,  
I was shocked and appalled to read in today's paper the story of Mlle Daae's 'heroic' actions concerning the Vicompte de Chagny. I would like to imform yourself and your readers that Christine Daae is in fact a selfish coward. The paper stated that Raoul's case of this influenza is 'quite light', and yet it was implied that Mlle Daae showed great strength of character in going to his aid. I find this state of affairs appalling because her beloved music teacher, the 'Angel of Music' is extremely ill with a dangerously high fever, and is calling for her in his delirious agony. If she is as heroic as your paper makes her out to be, why did she refuse to go to come to him, on the grounds that she is afraid of becomming ill? I include her response to my letter, which begged her to come. I believe that the people of Paris have the right to the true story behind Christine Daae's heroism.

Yours sincerely,

Elizabeth Holmes. 

Elizabeth handed the Persian the letter. Just then...

"Christine...Christine...Where are you...? Please come back..."

"I must go. I hope your idea works. God bless you for being a true friend for him," said Elizabeth, as she hurried back to her post at Erik's side.


End file.
